Word Salad
by SA3466996
Summary: Sometimes it wasn't what you said but what you didn't or couldn't say that really mattered". A tag to a tag to the episode 'Boxed In'. All NCIS characters are the property of Bellisario, CBS and Paramount.
1. Chapter 1 Noise

**Word Salad**

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_**A/N**__ - A couple of people suggested I carry on 'The Onion' (a tag to 'Boxed In') and perhaps write a few chapters where the team try to make things up to Tony – perhaps by arranging a party for him. I decided against doing that because I felt Tony would feel that he didn't deserve the party and would either not allow it to happen or try to sabotage it someway - but that's another story entirely. _

_However, I had inferred (from their text messages) that Tony wanted to talk to Abby and had arranged to meet her for drinks that evening. 'Word Salad' is that conversation and hence is a short tag to 'The Onion' which is, in itself, a tag to the episode 'Boxed In'... so I suppose what I'm trying to say is that it might not make that much sense if you haven't read 'The Onion' or seen the episode 'Boxed In'. Sorry!_

_All the usual characters are the property of Bellisario, CBS and Paramount. Purely for fun, because I like getting inside the characters' heads and messing around in there, but most of all... because I can be cruel! _

_And no, I still do not own a Mustang!_

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**Word Salad**

**Chapter 1 - Noise**

They strolled, her arm chain-locking his snugly, securely, tightly. She wasn't going to let him go... not now... not now he'd come back. Two 'missings' in as many days were more than enough for her. She allowed the briefest of smiles to breach her face and let her head rest softly against his shoulder.

"Tony", she whispered.

"Uh huh"

"Don't do that again".

The voice was low; the tone was half pleading, half threatening. He was expecting an '_or else_' but it never came.

He stopped walking. _Do what? _he thought._ Get myself locked in a shipping container with only a Mossad assassin for company? Overreact when said assassin didn't invite me to dinner? Get myself in trouble by walking out when I couldn't deal? Falling asleep instead of calling Gibbs? Not texting her back the night before?_ There were too many 'thats'.

He turned to face her, his arm slowly unlocking, untwining from around hers and taking hold of both her hands, he looked apologetically at Abby and replied simply, "I'm sorry Abby, for all of it, for all of that".

Abby smiled, her pigtails swaying in the evening breeze.

"Oh, I know you're sorry Tony", she stated matter of fact, "I just told you not to do it again".

Tony smiled nervously, relinquishing his hold on Abby. She was right. She hadn't demanded an apology nor had she expected an apology. But he still felt he needed to apologise. He _always f_elt he needed to apologise to Abby.

Four words imprinted themselves in his mind.

He still couldn't believe those four words. He couldn't allow himself to believe.

"I was really worried about you Tony. You'd been missing all day yesterday. I could only get a general fix on your cell. We weren't sure we'd find you. And then when we found you you went missing all over again... and I texted you... and you didn't reply until this morning and... Tony..."

He could see the tears beginning to form in her eyes. How could he not be a bad person? He'd reduced Abby to tears. _"I was really worried about you Tony". _Her words hung in his head. She had been worried about _him. _No one was ever _really_ worried about him. Fighting back the feelings of self hatred swirling around his head, he stepped closer, put his arms securely around her and hugged for all he was worth.

Abby felt the difference immediately. This hug was needy... clingy. Abby wasn't quite sure whether Tony was hugging her because she was crying or because she had just told him she had been worried about him. It was almost as if the hug was meant to reassure him not her.

"I'm okay now Tony... thanks". She brushed the tears from her face with the back of her hand and released herself from his embrace. "You?" she tentatively asked.

He took a metaphorical step back.

He didn't know how to answer that one.

It was a simple question. Not so simple answer. He was emotionally drained, the events of the past two days having thrust him to the heights of adrenalin overload and then cruelly pulling him down low into the depths of self-loathing. At this actual moment, he didn't _feel_ anything. He didn't _feel_ okay. He didn't _feel_ not okay. He just didn't _feel_.

He had been running in 'safe mode' ever since Gibbs had... well ever since his boss had made him repeat _those_ words... just four little words.

_Not a bad person_

The words repeated themselves over and over in his mind. The last three he had no trouble with, but that first one... that first one was so hard to say, so hard to think, so hard to believe. He had tried to believe but...

"Come on", Abby interrupted the awkward silence, sensing the internal struggle deep in Tony's head. Gesturing for him to follow, she threw Tony a wink, "Let's get a move on. I'm cold and you're buying".

The interruption brought a welcome relief from his thoughts. He braved a smile at Abby's playful wink and briefly considered whether he had enough cash to last the night. Never could be sure when on a night out with Abby.

"You can spill all later, Tony" she threatened mockingly, heading in the direction of the bar.

A combined wave of fear and horror gripped his stomach. He couldn't spill... not everything... not anything. He started to _feel_ again and a strange, unfamiliar urge to unburden himself of 'those memories' washed over him before fear and uncertainty rooted him firmly where he stood.

"Hey, DiNozzo! I'm thirsty, _real_ thirsty", Abby half shouted over her shoulder.

Now he really was worried. Jogging to catch up with her he kept his eyes firmly straight ahead and replied dead pan, "You know I don't get paid 'till Thursday... might need to hustle McGee for cash in the morning".

Abby chuckled and, walking side by side with her trusted colleague and friend, she linked her arm with his once more. They walked on in silence, content with the sounds of the city, people, cars, sirens in the distance providing the background score.

Clump... Clump... Clump... Clump

_What was that?_ Abby thought. It sounded familiar. The deafening sounds were equally spaced, a slight variation in tone between the first and second but hardly any between the first and third.

Clump... Clump... Clump... Clump

There it was again. Equal spacing. First and third sounds... maybe a 95% match, second and fourth probably a 98% match. As they waited at the crossing for the lights to change, Abby was convinced she'd heard the familiar sounds somewhere else, but she just couldn't quite place them. She was puzzled but she'd figure it out. "_You always do"._ Gibbs's words rang aloft in her mind.

As they stepped off the sidewalk to cross the street Abby glanced down, checking her footing. The clump, clump, clump, clump noise was back... and it matched her left and right platforms perfectly. _Abigail Scuito_ she started to mentally chide herself, _you..._ and then stopped.

She frowned. It wasn't right. The noise was different. It wasn't the same. She knew what her boots sounded like. She knew what they sounded like in her lab. She knew what they sounded like on the carpet in the squad room. She knew what they sounded like in the elevator. She knew what they sounded like on the wooden floor of her apartment building. She knew what they were supposed to sound like on the concrete of the sidewalk. But somehow they had made a different sound. Why were they making a different sound? Had something changed?

She looked at Tony. Something had changed.

His noise had changed.

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A/N - That's it for chapter 1. Chapter 2 will be up soon when I can drag myself away from the fact that it's been snowing today.

"_Hey, better not let the boss catch you doing that", SA3466996 said coming to stand next to McColleague who was staring, out of the window, transfixed._

"_Sweet, isn't it", McColleague whispered, "how they cover everything... make everything look so white... so pure"._

"_Pure...! What are you...? I thought the boss had rid you of that optimistic idealism long ago. Back to work McGlasshalffull"_

_SA3466996 looked at the white flakes falling from the cotton-like sky above the office. By fourteen hundred it would have turned into a disgusting brown sludge. It would ruin his shoes, the gritters would be out..._

"_SA3466996!"_

_... too late to have stopped any black ice from forming this morning... but at least they showed willing... and when he finally got home this evening he'd have to clear a path before he could park the car. Yeah, snow was real sweet._

"_Hey, SA3466996", his boss shouted from across the room, "You know, I've got a real urge to throw you out that window. Quit daydreaming!"_

_SA3466996 bit the inside of his cheek and turned to look at his boss, an apologetic look spreading across his face._

"_Work, now!"_

_McColleague chuckled to himself as SA3466996 walked slowly, dejected, back to his desk._


	2. Chapter 2 Interference

A/N – Thanks to everyone for reading... it means a heck of a lot to me.

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**Word Salad**

**Chapter 2 - Interference**

They reached the end of the street where the '101 bar' was located. She had chosen '101' because it was one of Tony's favourite jazz and blues bars. It was small, intimate, welcoming... had big, comfy, leather sofas... _"It's the kind of place you can lose track of time in"_ Tony had once told her. Yep. If Tony was going to talk... tell her what was going on in that head of his... this was the perfect place for him to do it.

She had known him long enough to _know _him. She saw through the bravado, saw through the jokes he used to cover his true feelings and saw through the times he tried to deflect others from delving too deep. His half-hearted attempt at humour a few moments ago was new. He wasn't trying. He had wanted her to press him further, to pry, to look deeper. He wanted her to ask, and he had wanted to tell.

She pushed open the entrance door and led him, by the hand, down the flight of stairs to the bar in the basement. Pictures of the greats lined the walls of the narrow stairway. Pictures of Brubeck, Miles Davis, Coltrane, BB King... others she didn't recognise. But Tony would. That was what mattered.

The soft, melancholic tones of a 12-bar blues number echoed soothingly through into the stairway at its base. The bar wasn't busy at all. A couple in one corner, sitting in comfy seats, a few solitary people at various tables dotted around the bar, a party of four to one side and a few people ordering drinks or sat on stools at the bar. It was a quiet night.

"I'll grab us some seats if you wanna get the drinks in?" Abby chirped.

"Sure. What are you drinking?"

"Ah, the usual... thanks Tony"

"Coming right up"

She watched as Tony made his way to the bar. He was quiet... too quiet. But he wasn't being moody. Tony could be moody, but that usually meant he was angry at something, or someone. Moody meant he was dealing with it... working it out... playing up if necessary. But quiet... well she'd come to realise that quiet meant something was wrong in DiNozzo's world, and that a quiet Tony was not a happy Tony. She didn't want to pry... she didn't want to interfere, but quiet was not good. He wasn't dealing... he wasn't working it out, whatever it was that he had to work out.

She made her way to an empty leather sofa in a small alcove at the back of the room opposite the bar and sat down making herself comfortable. Closing her eyes she drank in the atmosphere. She understood why DiNozzo liked this place so much. Its heart and soul were plain to see. It enveloped you. It spoke to you. It didn't care who you were or what you had done. It didn't judge. She opened her eyes and watched DiNozzo carefully. He was trying to attract the attention of the bar tender who was deep in conversation with a small, blond-haired, twenty-something guy sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. Tony glanced around briefly and Abby caught his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders apologetically and turned back.

Abby smiled.

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Was that a smile? Had he just caught a glimpse of her smiling from the corner of his eye? How could she be so forgiving after what he had put her through? He could be such an idiot at times.

Yesterday she had sent him a text... asked if he wanted to talk. Yesterday... or this morning, when he had finally replied, he had wanted to talk to her, if only to apologise. But now, after everything that had happened today... apologising to Ziva, Ziva apologising to him, seeing Gibbs's disappointment in him as he read him the riot act, Abby in tears a few minutes ago, he wasn't sure this was the right time to be talking about rejection, about his father, about being a bad person. But he couldn't say no to Abby. No one could say no to Abby. Well... almost no one.

Dave Brubeck was playing in the background. Take Five. How he wished he could take five... take the five previous days erase them and start again. But that was impossible. _You have to keep moving forward Anthony. _He couldn't keep on dredging up the past. He had to let it go. But it was so hard. To let go, he had to let it out. He couldn't do that... could he?

Could he really do this? Could he really talk to her? Abby was a friend, a good friend... she wouldn't talk... not about something like this. Not if he asked her not to. He felt safe, comfortable. This place was like his Mustang... always good at making him feel... It hit him.

_Abby, you sneaky..._

She was a good friend... manipulative... but a good friend. She had chosen well. One of his favourite bars with music that you could lose yourself in, lose sense of your surroundings, lose sense of time and... well... lose your own sense... _Idiot_. He gave himself a silent, metaphorical head slap for having not seen it earlier. Gibbs, now Abby. People had been catching him off guard too often for his liking recently.

"Sir?"

The bar tender tried again.

"What can I get you Sir?"

Tony flinched. _Not again_. He sighed. He could do this. "Sorry, yeah, can I have..."

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Abby had been watching Tony. He was ordering the drinks now but he'd been distracted, deep in thought. Good. She wanted him to think. _Get those little grey cells working Tony! Work it out, whatever it is. You can tell me. I can help. But you need to talk to me._

She had known since the moment she received his text message earlier that morning that Tony would be okay... well, eventually. He would be fine, eventually. It just took time, patience and 'Abby Power'. She would have been really, really, really worried if he hadn't said yes. But he had. That was a good sign and he had taken the offer for what it was. A chat with a friend who was concerned about him, who hated seeing him like this and who just wanted to help.

She would let him talk. She would listen to his noise, see what needed tuning and help him tune it. She could do that.

Easy.

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A/N - Another short one I'm afraid. Final chapter up shortly. Please...

"_Hey boss, you know you said pleading for reviews and comments was a sign of insecurity"_

"_Uh huh", the boss sighed, wondering where SA3466996 was going with this one._

"_Well, is __**not**__ pleading a sign of cockiness?"_

"_Cockiness SA3466996?"_

"_Yeah... cockiness, and is there an in between... I mean, how do you know when you've moved from insecurity to cockiness or cockiness to insecurity? Where's the sign for..."_

_Whack_

"_Shutting up now boss", winced SA3466996, again._


	3. Chapter 3 Tuning

A/N – Okay... the final chapter. Thanks again for reading, reviewing and sending comments.

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**Word Salad**

**Chapter 3 - Tuning**

"Okay, so I got two rounds in", Tony said, passing two tall cocktail glasses to Abby and setting two glass tumblers for himself down on the small table in front of the leather sofa, "save me going back up there and waiting around for another three hours whilst _he_...", he thumbed in the direction of the bar tender, "...talks some, wet behind the ears, idiot into believing 'big band' was invented by Simon Cowell".

"Honestly Abs... if he'd told that guy that they'd removed the word 'gullible' from the dictionary...", he took a sip of the amber coloured liquid in his glass, "...I swear, he'd have believed him".

She laughed. He was back to his standard routine... well almost... the noise was still not right.

"So... you wanna talk?" she asked.

"I'm fi..."

"Tony!" she interrupted, pointing a stern finger at him. "Don't you dare tell me you're fine. If you can think that I'll think that you think you're fine after what happened then you don't know me at all. And I know you know me".

Tony eyes dipped towards his glass, cupped by both his hands.

He pursed his lips and swallowed. "Sorry", he apologised, lifting his gaze back up to catch Abby's eyes.

She'd been observing Gibbs for a long time now and knew that Tony sometimes responded better to a barked order than a gentle persuasive request. And yet the painful look on his face was enough to melt Abby's harshness.

"Come on Tony..." She couldn't do barked orders with Tony for long. He was her friend... and besides, those puppy dog eyes were killing her.

She tried the gentle, persuasive approach, "This is me you're talking to. Is it Ziva? Gibbs? Me? Come on... you can tell me anything. I won't say a word... nothing, zip... niente".

"Molto bene, Abby. Mi sembra che tu hai esercitato bene l'italiano"

"You're right, I have been practicing... and you're evading my question!"

Tony sighed. He didn't know where to begin. He didn't know what to say, how much to say. He wasn't even sure what was wrong with him.

"I don't know what to say", he sighed, looking at Abby's pigtails. "I don't know what's the matter with me?" his gaze now turning to her eyes, "I just flipped out..." he broke off and looked away.

Abby looked at the man sat in front of her. Tony... DiNozzo... friend... colleague... federal agent... he was so many things. The ex-cop... the frat boy... the military academy student... the child.

She had half accused him a few minutes ago of not knowing her. She wondered how much she actually knew about him. Not the external stuff, the stuff he liked to project, everyone knew that stuff. It was the internal stuff... the stuff that mattered to him, his feelings, emotions, anger, frustration... his hurt. She shouldn't have been accusing him of not knowing her earlier; she should have been accusing herself of not knowing him.

"Okay... Why d'you flip out Tony?" she asked.

"Dunno?"

"There must have been a reason"

"Can't think of one" he replied sarcastically.

"Can't think of one... or _won't_ think of one?"

Tony hesitated, turned his head to face Abby and glared.

He was a bastard when he was like this, but she'd forgive him.

"Tony", Abby pushed him further, "Why don't you want to think of the reason?"

"I don't know Abby", he shrugged his shoulders and held his hands up, the anger in his voice rising, "maybe because I don't want to know, maybe because I don't want to think, maybe because thinking is why I flipped out!"

"_Thinking is why I flipped out"_ he had said. That was weird. Everyone had to think. He had to think. She had to think. She liked thinking. She liked it a lot. She liked thinking about puzzles. She liked thinking about how to solve problems like when 'Major Mass Spec' threw a fit and wouldn't analyse a 'known' sample let alone a 'questioned' sample. She liked thinking about her friends and the time Sister Rosita had first invited her to tea with the others. She liked thinking about thinking.

_Kate. _

The memory of that day flooded back, the emotions overwhelming. She tried to think happy thoughts. They weren't coming. Thinking, she realised, could also be hard, emotional, painful and upsetting. She would need to try something different.

"Okay, you're an investigator right"

"Right"

"So as an investigator, you search for leads, follow them up, find evidence..."

"Abby, where is this going..."

"Bear with me Tony...", she motioned for him to stop talking. "The common approach path", she stated, feeling pleased with herself.

"The what?!"

"The common approach path... C, A, P. Forensic technique used in the UK", she rattled off. "It's a path from the perimeter of a crime scene to the focal point of the scene..."

"Abby, I know..." Tony tried but she wasn't listening.

"...It provides easy access for investigators and minimises the loss of potential evidence because it doesn't follow the same path as the perp or the victim", she stopped, taking a large breath, "we don't really use..."

Tony interrupted more forcefully, "Abby, I know what the CAP is".

Abby closed her half open mouth and replied sheepishly, "Of course you do... sorry".

"Well...?" he knew he was going to regret this, "what about the CAP?"

"Okay, well it's simple really. You find a common approach path to whatever's wrong. When you think, start at the outer edge, use an opening that's not really connected to what's wrong and work your way in to the focus. That way, you're not going anywhere near to the route taken by the perp or the vic..."

"Abby! I'm not a..."

"...sorry... I meant... well you won't be going down the most littered path, you won't take the most painful route..."

"Abby!"

"...sorry, I'm sorry... you won't destroy any evidence along the way".

She hoped he wouldn't destroy any evidence. She hoped he wouldn't destroy himself, but she wasn't completely convinced.

From the look on Tony's face she could see he wasn't convinced too. He obviously thought this was a bad idea.

"Just try it Tony. Tell me why you left yesterday?"

Swallowing a larger than usual gulp of amber liquid, Tony took a deep breath and answered.

"Ziva".

He hadn't left because of Ziva but it was the start of his common approach path.

"Okay...", Abby paused briefly. So this wasn't about Ziva and her rejection of him. She continued to press him further, "what happened between you and Ziva?" she asked.

He tensed. "Nothing, absolutely nothing", he feigned innocence.

"Tony!"

He tensed further and after a lengthy pause, he spoke. "She invited everyone else", he stated matter of fact and shrugged his shoulders, "But not me".

_Interesting._ So this_ was_ about rejection but not about Ziva. She could see he was nervous, not sure where this was going. Uncertain about what he might reveal. He was holding on to his glass as if his life depended on it. She asked calmly and quietly, "How did that make you feel, Tony?"

His tension visibly increased threefold.

"What do you mean, how did that make me feel? How d'ya think it made me feel Abby!" Tony's voice was laced with anger.

The knuckles of his right hand flashed white as he held his drink in a vice like grip. He quickly swallowed the remaining liquid in his glass, downed his second scotch and stood up, removing himself from her immediate vicinity. "Same again?" he asked with a hint of defiance.

"Sure" she answered quietly.

She watched him go. He'd backed off, before the hurt got too much. Before he lost it... lost it. That was it. It was control. He'd lost control. He'd reached the focal point of his crime scene. It wasn't the act of being rejected, it was the loss of control that had made him walk out. And she understood. Control was a huge part of DiNozzo's life. He was always either _in_ control or allowing himself to _be _controlled by those he trusted.

He did trust them didn't he? He trusted her, surely? She hadn't given him any reason not to trust her. She was reminded about how little she actually knew about the man and was suddenly plagued with a fierce concern. Tony being rejected was personal to him... but Tony losing control, well that affected him and those around him. He cared more about not hurting them than the hurt he was experiencing himself. What the hell had gone on in DiNozzo's head to make him feel comfortable, or at least not that uncomfortable with being rejected by his friends? Unless... unless it was... "Oh Tony..." she sighed, "what am I going to do with you?"

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She knew. He could tell.

He could see her reflection in the mirrored glass above the bar. She had been staring intently in his direction but he had purposely kept his eyes from catching hers. How the hell could she know? He hadn't told her anything. Not yet anyway. _Get a grip Anthony or you'll be spilling your guts to Palmer next._

He hadn't even mentioned_ him_.

_He _was reserved for solitary moments when he couldn't push the memories from his mind, or brief moments of madness when they worked a case and some trigger would cause a memory to burst forth which he'd then try to disguise with humour. He'd hated being left alone in that hotel suite. He'd had the run of the place, ordered room service, watched movies until three in the morning but he'd just wanted his father. And when his father came... well he'd got his attention at least...

"Your drinks Sir", the bar tender repeated pushing two cocktails and a large soda towards him.

"Right", Tony flinched, again. This was getting serious. The man was worse than Gibbs creeping up on him like that. "Thanks... sorry. I'm..."

"...lost in the music Sir", he replied, "It does that to most people".

Tony smiled and fished in his pocket for some bills. "How much do I..."

"No charge, Sir", the bar tender replied, polishing a glass with his off-white cloth, "I've seen you in here a few times now and If I can't give a freebie out every once in a while, well... besides, I'm in a giving mood tonight... knowledge, drinks, advice even"

"Yeah, I heard your brand of knowledge earlier... big band invented by Simon Cowell!"

"Oh that guy was such a prat!", the man stopped polishing, "I swear, if I'd have told him that they'd removed the word 'gullible' from the dictionary he'd have believed it".

Tony laughed. "That's what I said to Ab..." He stopped, his expression falling. He glanced at Abby's reflection in the mirror. She was still looking in his direction.

"Some advice Sir?" the bar tender said resuming his polishing duties.

It hadn't been a question.

"Talk to her... just be honest... whatever it is... she's not going anywhere. You just have to try and talk"

"I can't talk about it"

"Hey", he stopped polishing, set the glass firmly down on the bar top and looking directly at Tony, sternly replied, "I don't want to hear I can't... I want to hear I'll try!" Picking up the pristinely polished glass once more he quickly added, "Sir".

The bar tender resumed his polishing duties once more.

A few moments silence passed before Tony responded.

"I'll try", he said simply.

---------

He was heading back.

What should she say? How do you talk to someone about something they so obviously don't want to talk about? She knew a little about Tony's past but not much. He came from a wealthy family although his mother was dead and he didn't really speak to his father. How anyone could cut off a twelve-year old kid was beyond her. This had to be about his father.

He was back.

"I'm sorry", they both chorused as Tony set the drinks down on the table.

He flopped on the sofa beside Abby. He was tired, drained. He was about to speak but Abby got there first.

"I pushed you Tony. I'm sorry. You know we _all_ love you don't you? Gibbs, Ziva, McGee, Ducky... we all care about you. I love you. I care about you Tony"

He reached for his soda and sipped. He thought 'love' was a bit strong but 'care'... if he was going to be honest... 'care', he could go for that. Besides this was Abby talking. She loved everyone and everything. And he couldn't quite picture McGee 'loving' him, let alone Gibbs.

"Tony, you don't have to worry. Whatever it is, I'll help you. However bad it feels it'll get better if you talk about it"

"Please Abby, don't", he pleaded, placing his soda back on the table and leaning forward dipping his head so that she couldn't see his face.

"Your father?"

He raised his head and looked up at the ceiling. Then closing his eyes, he sighed and gave the briefest of nods.

They sat in silence for what seemed like an age. Each taking sips, at varying intervals, of their respective drinks. It was Abby who spoke first.

"What did he do Tony?"

He turned to face her, his eyes pleading for her to take back the question. He was barely in control of his emotions. Any more and he'd...

"What did your father do?"

He just shook his head.

Abby leaned forward, put her arms around Tony and hugged him. Sometimes it wasn't what you said but what you didn't or couldn't say that really mattered.

It was a good sixty seconds before she spoke. "It's okay Tony. You don't have to do this all at once".

He pulled back from Abby's comforting hug, embarrassed and shocked. Shocked. Why was he shocked? Abby hugged people all the time. Abby hugged him all the time. And then he realised. This was the first time he'd been _forced_ to relive those memories and think about his father without losing complete control or resorting to humour as a defence. He'd not lost it. It was painful but not quite as painful as all those other times the memories had surfaced from their compartmentalised cell and he'd been forced into thinking about _him_. He wanted this. This feeling that it could get better... that it could be less painful to remember. Maybe he _could_ do this.

"It's okay Tony. It's okay. I'm glad you talked to me" she hugged him again. "My round I think", she said levering herself up onto her platforms and straightening her pigtails.

"Abby, can we do it again?"

"Sure we can hug again, I'm not a one-night hug gal Tony!" she grinned.

Tony breathed easier, grateful for the light-hearted interlude, "No, Abs... I meant..."

"I know what you meant DiNozzo. I've gotten pretty good at reading minds lately", she smiled, "Sure we can talk. I'd like that"

"Thanks Abs"

"Anytime" she chirped, "Now, same again? Or do you want to swap your soda for a Scuito shooter?"

"What's a... never mind", he replied, "I'll try one... but if I'm ill tomorrow, I'm telling Gibbs it was your fault"

---------

Thirty minutes had passed since they'd had their first Scuito shooter and they were both well into their second. Tony had been talking non-stop since Abby had returned from the bar. He had talked about anything and everything except his father. She was content to listen. His noise had returned to normal but she couldn't help feeling that she would need to be on hand to re-tune him a good few times yet. He was still vulnerable and she didn't want to leave him. She didn't want him to be alone.

"Hey Tony, me and the Sisters are bowling in the quarter finals this weekend. Why don't you come with?"

"Oh... I... err... thanks Abs but I..."

"Come on Tony, it's not like you've not met them before... and they really like you. We usually grab a bite to eat afterwards and there's a cool club not far from the..."

"The nuns go clubbing?!"

"Sure... all the time. Sister Rosita loves it! Anyway I'm not going to take 'no' for an answer. You're coming with and that's..."

"I can't", Tony protested.

"Yes you can", Abby replied rather sternly.

"No, Abs, I really can't"

"DiNozzo, the only way you're getting out of this weekend is if..."

"Gibbs is making me take the weekend duty slot instead of Ziva", Tony interrupted.

"Oh"

"Yeah, a whole weekend of Gibbs... a whole weekend of being slapped across the back of the head... can't wait!"

"Why?"

"Why is he going to whack me across the back of the head? Because he's Gibbs, because it's what he does, because he can, because I let him, because I deserve it", Tony replied.

Abby snapped. "Tony! Stop it"

"Sorry", he relented, "Apparently I need a lesson in how to follow orders". Memories began to flood his head of how Gibbs had first tricked him into revealing his innermost feelings, and had then torn a strip off him in the conference room earlier that day. He swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of the familiar lump that had formed at the back of his throat. Gibbs was nothing like his father. Gibbs was Gibbs. These were different memories, still painful but completely different.

Abby was puzzled. "But _Ziva_..."

"This has nothing to do with Ziva", Tony replied, "and nothing to do with not being invited to her dinner party".

She knew he was right. "But..."

"He says working the weekend shift will go some way to making up for my insubordination yesterday".

"Insubord... Tony, that's not fair. It was a hell of a day and you'd been shot", Abby exclaimed.

"Just a scratch Abs... a graze. And it doesn't matter. I'm a Federal agent. You know... professional... objective... calm under pressure... doesn't let his _feelings_ cloud his judgement... doesn't piss off his boss... well tries not to anyway".

"Tony... it's still not fair! Gibbs is being a..."

"Gibbs. Yeah, I know Abby, and I'm cool with it okay! I said okay?"

Abby nodded.

A genuine smile crept across Tony's face and he placed his hand on Abby's. "Thanks Abs. I'm really sorry about bowling. Maybe I could come and watch you in the semis instead?"

"No", Abby replied, looking away and wiping a smirk from her face, "I don't want you to".

"Oh... okay. That's fine", Tony responded, letting go of Abby's hand, "I don't mind. I just thought..."

She could hear the disappointment in his tone of voice and could have slapped him there and then. Quickly turning to look directly at him, and with a huge grin on her face, "You can come to the finals", she replied.

Tony stared at her, transfixed for a brief moment before leaning forwards to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you, Abby..." he beamed, "for everything".

---------

The End

A/N – 'Molto bene, Abby. Mi sembra che tu hai esercitato bene l'italiano' should translate as 'Very good, Abby. It seems you've been practising your Italian'. At least that's what I think, and have been assured is what it says! So apologies if it's not quite right... in which case I should hang my head in shame, I know and I'm sorry.

Anyway, hope you liked it. Please feel free to review, send comments, pizzas, Caf-Pows, even head slaps. It all motivates me and I do have a habit of replying.

I've been trying to improve my sensory descriptions in this one and I'd love to hear your thoughts on what worked, what didn't and suggestions for improvements. All feedback is appreciated. This tag came about because of your feedback.

Oh and sorry my ANs are a bit long... I can't help it. I love doing this!

"_Hey, SA3466996... why is the CG-MS report not on my desk?"_

"_Erm... I... you'll have it in the next thirty minutes boss"_

"_You've got ten"_

"_Right", sighed SA3466996._

"_And SA3466996..."_

"_Boss?"_

"_If I catch you surfing fan fiction sites on my time again... I __**will**__ break your fingers"_

"_Yes boss" winced SA3466996, quickly switching applications on his laptop._

Bye! 'Till next time.

"_SA3466996!"_

"_Sorry boss"_


End file.
